


Careful

by satancha



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Gen, Just my fill of yandere writing cause i nhad too, M/M, Starvation, Violence, Yandere, not beta read we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-05-29 17:30:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19404883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satancha/pseuds/satancha
Summary: Anything can set him off, so you have to be cautious.(Yandere writing cause i like yandere woops)





	1. Chapter 1

You hear the front door open and you feel yourself go cold. 

You try to stay as still as possible on the couch. You clutch the pillow as tightly and you if you didn’t have _him,_ you would’ve destroyed the pillow by how hard you're holding it. You try to be quiet and try to keep your breathing as short as possible.

You hear him come over to the couch and he pecks you on the head sweetly. You try not to flinch, you remember the last time you did, it didn’t end well for you. You weren’t sure if your back healed properly as he said. Healed or not, you don’t care; It hurts.

He goes over the couch and sits next to you. You can’t help but be tense. The moment he’s comfortable next to you, he goes on and on about his day. He went on what he saw when he went to work that morning, to an object he saw during lunch that reminded him of you, to him telling you how excited he is to get home to you. 

If you weren’t kidnapped here and held against your will, you would’ve been flattered. 

You don’t say anything and you hope that he’s not in his ‘moods’. You can listen to him talk all day, you could listen to him talk for hours, it’s better than him torturing you any day. You’d take him talking to you in a heartbeat.

His face turns a bit flushed whenever he looks at you, and he keeps on chatting. You listen to every detail and hope you didn’t miss anything, just in case he decides to quiz on you. 

He stops talking for a bit and he pats his thighs. 

_Not again._

You go and sit on his lap willingly, once you position yourself comfortably, you hold onto the pillow again and you give him a slight nod and that’s his cue to talk once again.

He’s talking and he asks you questions too, and when you answer a question he likes, he rubs your back gently and kisses you on the cheek. 

You hope that this ‘mood’ stays with him for a long time. This mood of his is always your favorite. He’s so delicate when handling you. He gives you kisses and he’s always talking to you as if you matter. Whenever he’s in this mood, you always feel warm, and your face always gets a bit heated. This mood of his always makes you feel like things are normal and everything isn’t terrible. You could be here all day.

Both of you are having a very pleasant conversation and things feel fuzzy. You feel yourself relax against him. With him rubbing your back gently and with him talking sweet nothing in your ears, you start to lean on his chest to hear his heartbeat and feel his warmth.

_That was a mistake._

You feel the hand on your back go to your hair and he has a fist full of hair and that _stings._

He pulls your hair away from him. There are pricks of tears when you squeeze your eyes tight. You hold the pillow tighter and you felt the fabric tear a bit. You feel your heartbeat increase rapidly and everything goes cold.

He squeezes your hair a bit tight, _“Look at me.”_

You open your eyes immediately, not willing to disobey. You can’t help but have tears stream down your face. You look at him and his face is void of emotion. His eyes are blank.

_Oh god no. Not this._

“Who told you that you could lay on me?”, you whimper as he squeezes your hair tighter and he scratches your skin, drawing blood. You shake your leg to get his hands off your _bleeding leg._

He finds the wound and he digs his nails _deeper._ He makes sure that you can’t get away from him, and even if you can, you won’t try. You learned that if you try anything, he’ll make everything twice as bad. 

“Who said that you could lay on me?”, he questions me again and when I don’t answer, he goes to my arm and he _scratches me hard._ You don’t look but you’re pretty sure that he peeled your skin off. You don’t say anything but sob and whimper.

He has a hand on your throat and he squeezes lightly. _A warning._

_“Answer me.”_

“No one! No one told me. I did it all to myself and I was wrong. I made a mistake, _please._ _I’m sorry!”_ , you blurted out a response. You hope that whatever you said could appease him and he’ll let you go, but at this point, you know that’s wishful thinking.

He stops squeezing your hair and your arm isn’t being gashed and you feel yourself calm down. You look at him to find him staring at the pillow your holding. His bleeding hand is on the pillow, caressing the tear that you made. You just _know_ that things aren’t going to be good.

He abandons your hair and arm and he’s clutching your throat. And _oh my god you can’t breathe!_

You let the pillow go and you're grabbing onto his wrist and you’re _pulling._ You tapping, scratching, you’re doing _anything_ to get his hands off your throat.

He brings you closer to him and you can’t help but flinch away. He applies pressure on your throat and you freeze.

“You disobeyed me and you tore up the pillow,” he whispered in your ear. He lets go of your throat and he’s holding your waist.

“That earned you a punishment.”

You can’t help but break down cause _god,_ the tone of his voice meant that you’re not getting out of this unscathed.

~

Dinner was nice, you guess. He didn’t make your favorite so you couldn’t say it was amazing. 

And he was nice when he got home, and when he made dinner, so that was a plus.

You thank him for the food and dig in. He’s talking again and you try your best to respond to him but you’re a bit busy eating dinner. Thankfully, that isn’t deemed punishable so you’re off the hook for now.

He asks about your day and how it went. It was ok. He asked if you used the television at all and you told him no. If you even touched the remote without his permission, you think you wouldn’t have hands by now. His questions are normal and you respond what you usually respond so things are going smoothly, you think.

He’s talking about his day and how work was a bit rough. That little information meant that if you stepped out of line today, one of your limbs wouldn’t be functional at the end of the day. So you listen to him and make sure you get every detail again. 

You play with your food a bit, you’re not as hungry and you’ve been losing your appetite lately. So you stick to listening and mashing the potatoes just a tad bit.

You hear a plate crash onto the floor and you can’t help but jump in your chair. You look at him to see him standing, leaning over the table, his plate on the ground, his food everywhere, and he looks _angry._

You also stand and limp away from the dining table. You’re not sure what triggered him and you’re already starting to panic. You can’t think straight and you _know_ that backing away from him made everything worse. You back is on the wall and you’re trapped. He followed you to the wall and his face is blank. You feel the temperature drop and you go pale.

“You ungrateful little bitch,” he seethed at you and you can’t help but recoil at his comment. You start tearing up cause you don’t know why this is happening.

He grabs at your head and bangs it against the wall hard and you feel yourself getting lightheaded from the impact.

“You couldn’t just finish the food that I made?”, he pushes you onto the wall, keeping you from moving. “Do you know how much time I spent making that and all you did was play with it.”

You shook your head at him, hoping that he’ll listen to you. “No! Please believe me that I wasn’t-!”

He grabs at your head again he bangs it on the wall again, harder than the last. You feel like you’re going to blackout, but at this point, you might as well. That’s better than be conscious and go through this again.

He punches your stomach, and _you can’t breathe again._ You fall onto your knees while holding onto your stomach cause _damn, you can’t take in air._ He backs away from you and you look up to see him with a smirk on his face. _Asshole is loving this._

He crouches down at eye level with you. He holds your chin up, forcing you to look at him. There’s a gleam that you can see in his eyes.

“You’re not eating until I say so.”

With that, he stood up and walked away.

~

You’re _tired._

Everything hurts. Your eyes sting, your muscles hurt, your head if light, you’re cold and you just want to sleep.

And sometimes you do sleep cause exhaustion is always around the corner. And sometimes you can’t sleep because of god knows what. You don’t bother to move anymore, it’s too much to move and do anything. You just want to sleep everything away.

All you do is cry, sleep and just lay there. 

Rinse and repeat.

And you can’t help but cry. Sometimes you know why you’re crying and sometimes you don’t. You’re not sure if anything is real at this point. Your eyes sting from how puffy it is, from how much you’ve cried and just from how much it stung.

It was hard at first to go to dinner without food. It was excruciating. But he made sure that food wasn’t allowed in you because when you had food, you always have a new scar to show the next day. He knew if you ate that day, he always kept count on what’s in the fridge and what goes missing. You can’t take anything. You did try to suppress my hunger by drinking water but you just reach a point where it just doesn’t matter anymore.

You’re not sure how you get here in bed, maybe you walked here or something. You don’t know and you don’t care. You just want to sleep. 

You’re grateful that he doesn’t bother you in the morning at all. He never does. Though you’re not sure if it’s morning now. You lost track of time days ago. You only knew to get up whenever the front door opened. You made a new system. Stay in bed, probably sleep, and if the front door opens, get up and greet. It’s that simple.

But for now, all you need to do right now is sleep and not focus on nausea and not vomit at all. He wouldn’t like that. He’d punish you for vomiting on the bed again. Sleeping is the best option.

Just sleep.

_Just sleep._

You’re not sure if you fell asleep but you weren’t really conscious so you think fell asleep. 

But you heard the front door open, so you get up. At least you think you did. You’re on the ground though so you’re not sure. And you can’t help but tear up and cry because you’re not at the front door. You have to get up or else something will happen. You don’t know what will happen but _something_ will happen. Maybe you would get a new marking on your arms again. That happens when you don’t go to the front door immediately. And you can’t help but cry again.

You try to get up but it seems impossible. You don’t know why but it’s _hard._ Maybe it’s better if you just stay on the ground. You just don’t know anymore.

You’re just really tired. So maybe you can sleep.

That doesn’t sound too bad.

So you try to sleep. But something is stopping you from sleeping. You feel tapping on your arms and tapping on your face. You try to open your eyes but you can’t focus. You just see something over you. You can’t figure out what that is so you just try to sleep it off. You can’t focus on things anymore. 

You feel the tapping getting more erratic and now something is shaking you. It won’t stop shaking you and you’re tearing up again cause everything is spinning. You can’t help but cry cause crying seems reasonable. It’s something you can do if you can’t sleep.

Something is rubbing on your face and the water on your face keeps on disappearing. You’re not shaking anymore but you feel things under you and you feel yourself getting up. 

Are you sitting? You might be sitting. But sitting is bad cause everything is worse and the room is moving fast. You try to go back down to the ground cause you might vomit and someone might not like that. Someone doesn’t like it if you vomit. But whatever is holding you won’t put you back down.

You feel yourself getting moved and then you feel something soft under you. Are you on the bed? You shouldn’t be in bed, you have to be at the front door. Something will happen if you’re not at the front door. So you try to sit up, despite everything hurting, but you feel a pressure on your body and it won’t let you up.

You can’t get up and you start crying because something bad will happen if you don’t go there. Your tears are coming down fast and you feel like panicking because everything is wrong. Everything is wrong because you’re not at the front door. You have to be there.

You’re off the soft bed and you’re moving. You don't know where but they’re moving fast. Everything looks disorientating so you shut your eyes and hope you don't puke. And then they just suddenly stop so you open your eyes to see what’s going on. 

You’re at the front door. You don’t know how you got there but you’re here! You’re thrashing to get rid of the things under your body but they’re holding on to you tight. You don’t know who’s holding you and you plead with them because you have to be at the door.

“Please, put me down! I have to be at the front door. I have to be at the front door or else!”, you can’t see properly and you can only focus on the front door you just have to be down there or else something will happen.

Finally, the thing puts you down the front door and you’re leaning on the wall and you’re so happy. Something grabs your attention and you turn to look to see it’s him.

Oh yeah, you had to greet him when he’s here. You hope you’re not late. But it doesn’t matter because he’ll do something anyway. But you try to appease him anyway. You look at him all wobbly and you can barely focus on him but you try and you succeed. You give him a shaky smile, “Welcome home.”

~

You don’t know how you got on the bed but you are. You’re so tired that you’re just trying to sleep to try and feel better. 

You hear a noise in the background and you feel something shake you. You look over to see something. He’s saying something and you try to hear what he’s saying.

_“You… eat…,”_ you can’t really make up what he’s saying and his voice is starting to hurt your head so you just turn back to the ceiling and ignore everything else. The shaking stops and you’re grateful that you can try to relax.

There’s a tap on your shoulder and you turn to see. They have a glass of water. You ignore the glass. You weren’t thirsty, to be honest. You just want to sleep.

They tap you again and you turn to look. They have food. You turn around immediately and tear up. You can’t have food in you. That’s bad. _Very bad._ If food gets in you, nothing good ever comes from it. You start crying again cause you don’t want to think of what’s going to happen if you eat. Besides, you weren’t hungry, so you don’t have to eat anyways.

Something turns your head around you see food again and you just squeeze your eyes as tight as you can. You cover your mouth and you try to keep your mouth shut. You’re not allowed to have food. That’s very _bad._

They’re coaxing you food again and you shake your head at them no. You don’t want food. You’re not hungry and if you have food, something terrible will happen. They try and pry your hands away from your mouth and you start thrashing and screaming.

_“Stop! I don’t want food!”_ you try and shake them off of you.

“No- please. You need to eat.” 

You feel them tugging at your hands harder and you’re not really strong but you try anyway, no matter how much it’ll make you sick. You can _not_ have food. You try to tell whoever they are this.

“I’m n-not allowed to have food so, _please_ stop,” you can’t get away from this person, they’re too strong. You can only beg. But you don’t think begging will work but you have to try. You’re not allowed to eat.

A hand caresses your face and you try to listen to them.

“Please eat. You can finally eat, it’s done. You can eat as much as you want,” you feel the hand shake. “So please, eat.”

You shake your head no. Why can’t they understand? You can’t eat. Eating isn’t allowed. Maybe they don’t know? You try again.

“I’m not allowed to eat so leave me alone,” a water drop landed on your face and you hear a noise. You have to convince them to stop.

“Please don’t. I’m not h-hungry, at all. So you can stop now,” you hear crying and you just want things to be quiet.

“I’m sorry, but we h-have to be quiet,” you shush at him. “And I’m very sorry, I’m r-really tired. I have to sleep.”

You open your eyes and see someone put their forehead on yours. They give you a kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll fix this, baby. Don’t worry.”


	2. Eat

You're  _ freezing. _

You can't warm up no matter how many times you rub your arms, or how much you huddle yourself and just get some kind of friction. The water won't let you warm up, no matter how hard you try.

You're not sure why you're in the bathtub, how you got here in the first place. All you know is that someone put you here.

You start to breathe just a bit fast and honestly, you don't care. You're not sure why you're here in the first place, or why your headache is pounding, or why your body is raked with shakes and why you're so  _ fucking cold! _

The door creaks open and you look and you just see a man.

A man.

You don't care.

You have to get out.

You try to stand, but he's already by your side, gently pushing you back into the frigid water. He's shushing you and you almost bat his hand away but he caresses your cheeks and his eyes go soft. He looks miserable.

"Baby, please, you're sick. You need to be in the water." you don't notice that you have tears running down your face until you see him wipe them away.

You turn your head away from and glare at him, "I-I'm cold," you sob. You try to cover yourself for some kind of heat but nothing is working. "I don't want to be here."

His eyes teared up a little his breathing hitches a bit before continuing, "Baby, the water is warm, hot even. I can't-," he chokes and he takes a breather before continuing, "I can't make it any m-more warm. It'll hurt you."

You shake your head vigorously, disagreeing with him immensely. Your toes and fingers sting from how cold you are, -you can't even feel them-, and you try, -and oh god you tried-, to grab him, pulling him closer to you to get some kind of heat. He's wet because of you but you don't care, you want out of this bathtub.

You feel him try to pry you off and you get a bit hysterical, clutching to him like it was life and death, and you whimper and you whine and you sob, _ "No, no, no! P-please, don't put me back. It h-hurts, it hurts, it hurts!" _ you push and you push, and you don't care where pushing gets you, as long as you're away from that fucking tub.

He stumbles back, surprised that you have some kind of strength in you and he's flat on his back, with you on top of him. 

If it were in any kind of situation, he would've been on cloud nine, but the situation doesn't even need him to be raging a boner when his Darling is fucking dying. He's trying to get you off but he's so scared of hurting you. He's already hurt you in so many ways possible, he doesn't want to add this on his long list.

He sits up and you're shaking in his arms and his heart tears into two. He grabs a towel nearby and covers you as much as he can. He can't put you back in the water, he's tried so many times and it always ends up on you breaking down so hard, you're almost inconsolable. He can't bear to think of you like that again, so he hugs you and he closes his eyes and pretends. He pretends that you're happy. He pretends that you're healthy and alive. He pretends that you're not  _ dying _ in his arms. He hugs you just a bit tight after the thought, and he wants to cry, so bad, but he can't. He doesn't deserve to cry for you cause it's all his fault.

All of his fault.

  
  


You shiver against him, trying to bury yourself further into him for warmth. You're still cold and you're even colder out of the water. You hate water. You finally stopped crying and you just settle yourself in his arms, trying to calm down. You play with his shirt a little bit to try and work up the courage to ask him about something.

He feels the shirt being played with and he knows what it means. He lets you go and you're sitting apart at a reasonable distance. You try to cover your parts as much as you can. Someone doesn't like it when they stare at you without their consent.

He taps your shoulder gently as he possibly can and you think he's nice, "Tell me what's on your mind."

You glance at him before looking away quickly. Your face flushes and you're a bit embarrassed to ask, "C-can you get me s-some clothes?" you look into his eyes, something told you to always look at people in their eyes.

He grins at you and he pulls your hair out of your face, his beams at you so happily, "Of course, baby, anything for you." He pecks you on the forehead. 

You cringe away at the contact, and look away from him, trying to not meet his eyes and just stare at the towel. You miss the glow in his eyes deteriorate and a frown edge on his face, "Can you not d-do that?" you play with the towel instead.

He gives a hum in response, better than nothing you suppose.

You ask another question and you don't have the courage to look at him again, "After you get me clothes, can you t-take me to the front door? I have to be there."

The light in his eye completely disappear and he covers his mouth to muffle the noise.

He knows he doesn't deserve to cry but he can't help it anyway.

\-----

He sets you near the door and you see him exit from the front. You don't know where he leaves to but you don't care. You just have to wait for them and then you can sleep.

You hear a noise behind the door, you think you hear sobbing but you're not really sure. You do hear footsteps pacing near the door, and it goes on like that for a bit, before they skid to a halt and just stops. You hear a deep breath and the door opens.

He comes through the door and you try to stand and greet him. He crouches down to you before you can even be on your knees to try to stand, and he hugs you.

You hug back, you always hug back to make sure he doesn’t hurt you.

He's shaking and you think you hear his breath hitch a bit and you think you hear a whimper before he puts his head on the crook on your neck and just rests there. 

You pat and coo at him. You try your best to comfort him. He seems very stressed lately. "Did your day go alright?" 

His head shakes a no and you stiffen a little bit. You have to be very careful now. You ask a safe question, "Is there anything that I can do?"

He doesn't do anything except brush your back. You know this gesture, he's thinking deeply, on what his next course of action should be. You hope that he's not planning on your "lesson".

He breaks away from the hug and you pause when you see his face. The bags under his eyes look deep and dark, his eyes are puffy and he looks a bit pale but there's a grim smile on his face, his eyes look hopeful, "How about we eat, yeah?"

You shake your head and you chuckle at his joke, "Very funny, but you k-know I can't do that," you look at his shirt and play with his necklace, missing the tears in his eyes and the way his face just breaks.

He grips at your forearm and he's clutching tightly, not to hard to be painful but if he presses anymore, there will be bruises. You look at him confused, you feel him getting more stressed and he forces the words out, _ "You need to eat." _

You stare at him for a bit before trying to pull your arm away from him, it doesn't work, obviously, but it doesn't hurt to try, even though it'll earn you a harsh whip. You glower at him and you grit your teeth, "You're not being funny," you see him getting mad and you stop your aggressive behavior immediately before glancing away, "Just stop, ok?"

He grabs your chin and he yanks your head in his direction, forcing you to look at him. He's livid. "I'm not joking," he grabs your forearms and you swear he's holding himself back to throttle you hard, "You need to  _ fucking eat." _

You try to say something but he forces you on your feet and you're tumbling around, and he's dragging you to the kitchen. You would've been confused why you were having a hard time trying to stay upright but that thought goes out the other ear when he slams you on the counter and he starts rummaging through the fridge. His arm is on your chest and he's got you pinned.

He struggles against him and you try to pry his arms away, but for some reason, you're too weak and there's a pounding headache coming in full force. "Get off me, you prick! I'm not fucking around," you struggle again and fail again, _ "Let me go!"  _

He grabs something from the fridge and is that a fucking chicken leg? He turns to you and he all but screams, "And I'm not either,  _ eat. _ " 

You turn your head away from the food and you clamp your mouth shut, cause fuck no you're not going to break the single rule that he's made specifically clear that you cannot do under any circumstance. He's testing you and you're not gonna give in. You're not gonna fall for it again.

He yanks your hair hard and you yelp and _ he shoves the food in your mouth and you-! _

Panic. You have a full-blown fucking panic attack.

You choke on the chicken because he forcefully shoved it down your throat and you're groaning cause your throat hurts and you're sobbing and you can't breathe.

The chicken is gone and the air is supposed to fill your lungs but you can't breathe because you can't. No matter how hard you try to inhale, you sob the air out twice as hard and you're left breathless.

You break down hard and your mind is racing and you can't focus on anything but the feeling of terror and dread. You don't know how to handle anything and you feel hands on you and you swat them harshly cause they just intensify everything. 

You try to breathe, you're body tries to wheeze the oxygen out. You try to calm down, every single thought that you had before comes in thrice as hard and thrice as fast and you're drowning. Your whole body is buzzing and you feel your limbs going numb and you can't fucking stand it.

You try to distract yourself from the feeling. You pull your hair hard, harder than he's ever done to you before. You _ scratch  _ and you make sure that there's going to be some kind of blood coming out cause  _ fuck everything is terrifying. _ You  _ bite _ hard on your skin and you make sure your arm aches because anything is better than the feeling of dying.

You feel hands, hands, hands, try to pry you away from yourself and you slap them away cause they're not welcome. They can't touch you cause they feel terrible. They feel mind-numbing. Everything is mind-numbing and if you don't fucking bite, you're not sure you're ever gonna come back from this unscathed so you bite, bite, bite till you bleed. You make sure you bleed before you go to another spot and you  _ dig your nails _ into the bites cause the pain is better than the horrid feeling of dread.

You bite, scratch, and pull.

You bite, scratch, and pull.

You bite, scratch, and pull.

You rinse and you fucking repeat.

Someone yanks you, you're not biting yourself anymore, and there's a prick on your neck before everything turns dark.

\-----

You were supposed to eat.

You were supposed to  _ fucking eat. _

_ And he can't even do that right! _

You're sleeping peacefully in his bed. He patched you up carefully and he made sure that he didn't leave anything  _ exposed and bleeding. _

His hands haven't stopped shaking from what happened, it's been an hour since it happened. He's had enough time to calm down to think of a plan, enough time to pace around the room and think of a goddamn idea on what to  _ fucking do. _

He chews on his nail and he runs his hand through his hair and fuck.

He doesn't know what to do.

His mind keeps on playing two things, the panic attack and some kind of plan. Since he can't think of a single plan, his mind keeps on replaying the event over, and over, and over again.

He can't stop thinking about you and he tries to muffle his whines in his fist, he won't be surprised if he's having some kind of attack too, but he doesn't care because you're on his bed and you're  _ dying. _

His heart drops to his stomach and the dread pooling in his nerves keeps increases every time the memory resurfaces but he can't help it. You were _ hurting yourself _ and it was the most terrifying thing for him to ever witness. His mind blanked over trying to make sure you didn't hurt yourself and he groans and a few tears slip out of his eyes, but he doesn't care cause he needs to plan on what to do.

_ If only you'd eat, then everything would've been ok! But no! You decided to be a fucking brat and refuse any sustenance that could actually keep you alive.  _

_ And whose fault is that? _

He whimpers just a bit louder than last time and his legs are ready to give out any second.

His eyes sting are they're a bit red, his throat hurts from how much he just wants to fucking scream and cry, his whole body is rattling, in anxiety or from the shock, he doesn't know or care.

_ Fuck, fuck fuck. Think of a fucking plan! _

He paces around the room, chews his nails, ruffles his hair, and tries not to buckle down and cry.

If he doesn't come up with a plan soon, he thinks you won't be here for long.


End file.
